


Flawed design

by toitsu



Category: Peter Pan (2003)
Genre: M/M, as the warnings say, not sure how in character they are, some violence too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-22
Updated: 2012-09-22
Packaged: 2017-11-14 19:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/518803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toitsu/pseuds/toitsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter wants to steal Captain's hat while Captain is sleeping. Too bad he wakes up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flawed design

**Author's Note:**

> So my friend really likes 2003 Peter Pan movie and forced me to watch with her and...this fic wrote itself. I have no shame, and I regret nothing.

_I will steal the hat,_ Peter thinks as he gracefully glides over the still waters to the ship looming over them. Yes, he will steal the hat, and mock the old fool, and one day he'll kill him. But not yet, having Hook around is fun. It means there is something to do in the bleak hours of boredom.

 

It takes him a while to find the right cabin, but it's ridiculously easy to sneak in once he is there. There is a stream of moonlight washing over the cabin through a tiny round window – just enough so he can make his way around the place, searching for the hat.

 

There is a sharp, unpleasant smell, and there is a captain, sleeping. There is a red coat, yes, but where is the hat, where – there. On the floor beside the bed, and he crouches.

 

And freezes when something warm touches the nape of his neck. _Well well well._ And the voice is so so quiet, slithery. _Who do we got here._

He jumps away and turns around. He isn't afraid, no, his heart beats in excitement. Maybe they'll have a little sword fight. Yes, it'd be fun.

 

The thing that touched him was a stump, and he has to fight back shivers of revulsion, because, because _eew._

( _It is your fault,_ his treacherous mind whispers, but he ignores it, just like the warning hammering of his heart, the steady _get out get out get out._ He does _not_ run before Hook).

 

The hat is forgotten, because Hook is watching him with unnerving eyes, and Peter doesn't understand that look. It's not anger, it's not _kill-you-kill-you-kill-you_ he is so used to. ( _Run run run Peter run)._

_Come here,_ and the command is low, and velvety, and it sends shivers down Peter's spine, _little thieving boy, come down._

 

And he obeys, heart in his throat and hands trembling. He wraps fingers around the hilt of his knife, and doesn't understand Hook's sly smirk. _(Run run run run run fool Peter run run run now now now!)._

He is _not_ afraid of Hook; he will never run. Hook isn't even armed, not even with his infamous hook. ( _I put it there)._ Really, he doesn't look like much threat, shirtless and with only one good hand, his hair unkempt and cascading down his shoulders.

 

 _(He is_ more _intimidating than usual, because usually Peter can tell himself there are swords, there are hooks, there are pirates – he can tell himself it's not the man but the circumstances, but now, even half naked, there is something powerfull about this man, something frightening. It might be his eyes.)_

His fingers touch Peter's cheek, and he is startled. His breathing is getting a little laboured. _I think,_ Hook says one intense moment later, voice strained, throaty, _you should leave._

_(Yes yes yes now now now listen to him run - )_

-except he simply _does not run_ from Hook. He isn't afraid. The man is unarmed. Peter has his knife, Peter can fly – so he smiles his arrogant smile (ignores his sweaty palms) and taunts _you can't do anything, look at you, where is your sword, your hook, old man, beat you with one arm tied_ and so on, and something flashes in Hook's eyes, and before Peter can protest, fingers curl around the leaves on his chest and he is yanked down, on the bed.

 

 _Little boy,_ Hook says calmly. His voice. What has he done with his voice, because it makes Peter quiver, it makes his face hot, his skin crawl – what kind of sorcery is that? His grip on his knife is painful, and Hook's lips curl into – not smirk or smile, but something that screams _DANGER DANGER DANGER_ , and he pries the knife away from him.

 

Okay, so he is a little afraid now, because when did his head hit the pillows and captain is over him, pinning him down – oh, _oh, don't touch me with that hand, don't._

_Little boy,_ Hook repeats, looking over Peter's head, _I told you to run._

Peter finds the strenght to definatly say _never._

_Well, then,_ and the voice is so, so gentle. _Don't scream._

And Peter would repeat _never,_ he really would, except there is a cold touch of metal on his skin and he waits for it to cut, he waits for death – but death doesn't come, it's his clothes that are coming undone.

 

And okay, now is the time for some panic _(too late too late too late), what are you doing,_ a shriek, writhing underneath that strong body.

 

And the look Hook gives him screams _predator danger hunt prey danger,_ and he really should stop doing that thing with his voice, because the way he says _I'm going to ruin you, little boy_ makes Peter feel weird.

 

He is naked now, and he shivers because he is cold, yes. Cold. _(This isn't right dangerous unnatural Peter run Peter go away)_ and he tries, he is out of the bed faster than the speed of sound but there are fingers pulling him down and they stumble out of the bed and onto the floor.

 

Hook's eyes are narrow slits. _Well, then._ And Peter can't breathe, lying on the floor, Hook's tongue in his mouth – what's wrong with Hook, is this some new way of killing and _is Hook naked?! –_ and now panic attacks with full strength. He tries to fight, tries to scream. _Fly away fly away,_ but there are no happy thoughts, only fear fear fear and this leaden feeling low in his stomach, and _did he just –_ he can't think about it, he won't, he wants to scream and cower in the corner, hide hide hide.

 

 _I told you,_ Hook breathes, _I told you to go._

_Please,_ and he is close to tears.

 

 _Never,_ Hook throws back at him, and he is naked, _he is naked what is he gonna do to me, oh gods._

_Now now,_ Hook drags his tongue across Peter's chest, _if you behave I promise it'll feel good._

Peter can't imagine anything feeling good about things Hook does to him. Floorboards are rough. So is Hook's hand. He cries out in pain when there are vicious teeth on his thigh.

 

Hook slaps him hard, unexpectedly – his lips get caught between his teeth and he feels them tear. _Quiet down._

He towers over Peter, and how could he ever think this man harmless is beyond him. His chest and arms are lined with muscles. Peter doesn't look at that thing between captain's legs, similar to his own but so – big and different and how does it stand like that?

 

 _Like what you see, boy?_ The voice, the voice, stop with that voice, it makes Peter's insides tremble and clench and he looks away.

 

 _(Get away from me, please let me go, you're scaring me – yes, you are – don't hurt me, don't put your hands – or mouth – on me, stop this, I don't like this)_ except fingers touch him there and his body writhes on it's own, and breath hitches in his throat. Hook does it again, and other things, and he can't breathe, he can't breathe, floorboard is digging into his back but he doesn't notice because his skin is on fire, _what is he doing to me,_ his stomach will explode, he can't think, Hook pulls him into his lap and wraps fingers around both their cocks, _oh oh OH,_ and it does feel good, and he throws his head back when Hook licks his jaw and _why are his fingers there_ and he buckles, tries to get away, but Hook's other arm is firm around his waist, and he can't.

 

 _Relax,_ hot air in his ear, _relax and it will hurt less,_ and he is alarmed because Hook doesn't say it won't hurt, and he doesn't want anything to hurt – he will run, he will fly away, except he is somehow on his knees and there is something _(stump, that awful stump)_ pressing into his neck, holding him down, his arms too weak, he can't get up, can't fight, he is trapped here, and his lips leave little trails of blood on the floor.

 

Those fingers. Those long fingers, and he wiggles his hips, trying to get away, and is rewarded with a sharp slap on his buttcheek. But he doesn't cry out.

 

The fingers move, and he breathes in relief for a second before they are replaced with something else and – _it hurts hurts hurts hurts hurts stop stop stop this_ \- and he is truly crying, and the pressure on his neck is gone. Long hair tickles his bruised back. There is a heavy breathing, and it's not his own, and for a moment, everything stands still.

 

The the Hook starts pulling out _(yes, yes, go away, get out, please)_ but slams back in, and Peter's body shivers from the force and pain.

 

Again and again and again, and it will split him in half, he is going to die - _please let me die, I can't -_  but then, eternity later, it's over with something burning filling his body, Hook lets him go, pulls out and he collapses on the cold, hard floor. His nails are broken from trying to scratch through it. There is something wet leaking from – from _there._ He just wants to sleep, to forget. It hurts too much to move.

 

Later, there will be something wet and cold cleaning him, and he will shiver and try to scoot away. Later, Hook won't look him in the eyes but will say _You should've run, Peter,_ and _I won't say I'm sorry._

Later, he will find a happy thought that will make him fly ( _my bed, it  doesn't hurt there, warm, no Hook),_ but before that, Hook puts the red coat over him, because his clothes are ruined, and then smirks and puts the hat on his head as well.

 

 _Go on,_ he waves Peter off, still naked, the most terrifying thing in Peter's life, sated and relaxed, _you wanted the hat, right,_ and Peter runs before he cries again, and swears he will burn it when he is safely away.

 

*

 

Next time he sees Hook, he runs.

 


End file.
